Out Of Class
by ZivaKateAbby4Eva
Summary: This is just a bunch of one-shots about the kids from Hollywood Arts. Sorry if they are slightly OOC, and there will be multiple POV's. ENJOY! Review please!
1. Chapter 1

_Alright, I know I've been gone forever, with sports and such, I finally decided I wanted to write another story. I'm writing this one about Victorious, with multiple POV's. I will announce who's POV it is in when we get there. Sorry if they're kind of OOC, so, yeah, hope you enjoy it!_

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Victorious._

_Chapters may not come as quickly, because I am currently writing a story for my friend Annie, and I'm editing her story Discovery. And school is starting on the 17 of August…_

_This chapter is in the POV of TORI VEGA. Enjoy!_

Forget Him

My best friend Jade and I both had a major crush on the same guy, Beck. Jade went to a different elementary school, where she met Beck and used to chase him around at recess. During high school, I transferred to Hollywood Arts. Jade and Beck were both attending HA, and Beck rode the same bus I rode every day. Black hair, awesome brown eyes…no wonder we both liked him. Everyday at school we would obsess over him; if he looked at us, if we talked to him, whatever. I guess you see my point about the word "obsession."

Pretty soon, I started to get to know him better. We would talk on the bus longer than usual (which meant that we spoke only about four words to each other) and that was okay for me! Finally we began talking almost every day through instant messaging, and he seemed really nice. I started to like him even more.

One day, I found out that Beck was going out with a girl named Liza. I was so mad-although I had no clue as to why I should be so mad. I mean, it was none of my business. Even so, I started obsessing over him even more.

Later, I found out that Liza had dumped him because she just wanted to be friends with him. I felt like that was some of the best news of my life! That night, on instant message, I almost asked him out but decided against it. I was only a sophomore, and I felt like my dad would think I was too young to go out with someone. Not only that, but I knew that Jade liked him, too, and I thought it would hurt Jade if I started going out with Beck.

One day, Beck told me that he talked to Jade on instant message! I decided to call her, but there was no answer. _Dang, _I thought. _I'll call her back later and ask her about it. _About five minutes later, Jade called me. The first thing she told me was, "I have a boyfriend!" I laughed, thinking it was a joke, because we had joked about that before. "No, seriously," she replied to my laughter.

I took a chance at asking her who it was. "Andre?" I asked. He was an amazing musician, and lived across the street from her. I figured it could be him.

"No. Guess again." She said to me. I guessed, already knowing who it really was. I just didn't want it to be true.

"Beck," I said in a flat tone.

"Yes!" She excitedly replied. I tried to act normal and be positive, but I could barely hide my disappointment.

"That's cool. You have a boyfriend, Jade. Great." I could hardly fake any excitement.

I later asked Beck about it and found out that it was true-he was going out with her. He and Jade had instant messaged each other for an hour and forty-five minutes the night before. He told her that he had liked her since kindergarten! I was furious and sad all at the same time. I went up to my room and tried not to cry.

I called Jade later and we talked, but when she asked if I was okay about her and Beck, I hung up on her. She didn't' call back. At the time, I really didn't' know if the relationship between Beck and Jade would last, but meanwhile I'm trying to not have hard feelings toward Jade since this is the first time we've ever experienced something like this. If Beck had asked ME out, I would have said no-because my friend liked him too. I wish that Jade would have done that, but it was her choice, not mine.

I've read in teen magazines: "If you and your friend like the same guy, you should BOTH forget him. Otherwise, someone is going to end up getting hurt when the guy you're crushing on goes out with your friend and not you. FORGET HIM."

I totally believe that advice and I have decided that's what I'm going to do if the situation would ever come up again. In the end, friends will be there long after the crush is over, as long as we play by the same rules and respect each other's feelings.

I'm just glad Jade is still happy with Beck, and with time, I've decided to move on. Boys will come and go, but friendship will last forever.

_Alright, hopefully that was a good comeback. Review, review, review, review please! I haven't been writing for here forever, so I'd like to know if I'm still up to par. This story is like Family Stories: The David's, I know. I found I like writing that type of story better. Hopefully all of you who have read my stories before, will still read this story now. _


	2. Chapter 2

_Here is another chapter for Out of Class. I don't own Victorious, as always._

_This chapter is in the POV of ANDRE. Beck is also involved._

_ENJOY!_

A Friend's Secret

When I was a kid, every Thursday night was my mom's night out (usually she went to choir practice at church) and my dad's night to take the kids to dinner. We'd go to Red Lobster (Dad loves seafood) and order popcorn shrimp and hush puppies.

Suddenly, when I was in my sophomore year of high school, my mom started going out almost every night of the week. After dinner, she'd kiss my sister, my brother, and me and say, "Good night. See you in the morning."

"But where are you going?" I asked, incensed that she would just leave us, even when my dad wasn't home from work yet. My sister, Carla, was fourteen, but still…

"I'm going to see a friend," Mom would respond vaguely. "Someone who needs my help."

But I could see the signs. She'd put on a skirt, touch up her mascara, add another misting of perfume to her neck, grab her purse and head out the door.

Mom was having an _affair. _On top of that, my own mother had lied to me. A friend who needed her help-ha!

I was furious.

I didn't tell anyone my suspicions, not Carla, who was too busy talking on the phone to her new boyfriend; and not Charlie, my eight-year-old brother, who barely looked up from the TV to tell Mom good-bye. Dad just acted like there was absolutely nothing wrong with his wife leaving the house after dinner to go on a _date._

Apparently, everyone in my family had gone crazy.

Then, one day after school, Mom came into my room.

"Andre," she said, "there's something I need to talk to you about."

I knew what she was going to tell me. There would be a divorce, then a custody battle, then for the rest of my life I'd pack up a suitcase to go from Mom's house to Dad's for the weekend. My stomach dropped to my ankles.

"What?" I demanded, surprising even myself how hostile I sounded.

"It's about Beck."

Beck was one of my friends. We both went to Hollywood Arts. We'd met at church and our parents were friends and we had grown up together. We played soccer and acted on the weekends.

The year before, Beck's family had moved into a new house on a hillside with a spectacular view. It had a long flight of steps down the back that led to a swimming pool and a hot tub. I was jealous when Beck got to live in such a big house. I shouldn't have worried, though, because I got to enjoy the new house too. Now after a hot game of soccer, we could go back to Beck's house for a dip in the pool, followed by just hanging out.

"Well, what about him?" I finally asked.

Mom took a deep breath. "I just want you to be really nice to him for a while."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm always nice to him. He's _my friend."_

"I know, and you're a good friend. But things might be hard for him for a while, and he'll need your friendship more than ever."

"Mom, what are you talking about?"

"I'd better just tell you, Andre. Beck's parents are getting a divorce."

It felt like the time in gym class when someone had kicked a soccer ball right into my stomach. I couldn't breathe. Then the guilt set in.

"You mean, when you said you were going out to help a friend…?"

"I was seeing Beck's mom. She needed to talk through some things."

I closed my eyes, felling guilty for my suspicions, felling even guiltier for the relief that flooded through me once I knew it wasn't my parents getting divorced.

"But, Andre, you have to promise me you won't say anything to Beck. He doesn't know yet."

"He doesn't' know?"

"His parents still have some things to work out. They're not ready to tell Beck yet. Promise me?"

"Yes, Mom, I promise."

That was a hard promise to keep. For weeks, I made a special effort to hang out with Beck and do fun things with him. Mostly we did the same old things: played soccer, swam in the pool, acted, or go to the movies. It was summer and school was out, so we spent lots of time together. Beck didn't' say anything about his parents, so I didn't either.

One day, Beck and I were sitting on the concrete next to the pool at the amazing house I had once been so jealous. While I read my book, Beck dozed. But he must have not been asleep, because suddenly he spoke. "Andre?"

"Yeah?"

"I have to tell you something."

My heart skipped a beat. "What?" I lifted my eyes over the edge of my book. Beck lay on the concrete, his eyes still closed.

"My mom and dad are getting a divorce."

Knowing this information for weeks should have prepared me to say something profound when this moment came. But it hadn't. I couldn't even figure out how to act surprised.

"Beck, I'm sorry."

"Thanks."

"That really sucks."

"Yeah." Beck turned his head in the other direction, so that he faced away from me.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

For a few minutes, silence floated between us like sunlight on the surface of the pool. "Beck?"

"Yeah?"

"Want to stay over at my house tonight?" I held my breath. "Mom has choir practice, so Dad's taking us out to eat."

Beck turned his head to face me again and smiled. "I'd like that."

In that moment, I realized something. I couldn't' make things better for Beck. I couldn't' keep his parents form slitting up. I couldn't make Beck's pain go away. But if I kept being Beck's friend, even when she had to move to a new house with his mom, a house without a pool or a spectacular view, even when he got angry, even when he wanted to cry but wouldn't-if I could stick by him through all of those things, then he could know that I was his friend and cared about him.

And maybe that would help…just a little.

_Okay, again, hopefully this was good. I'm gonna update as often as I can until school and cross country starts up again. _

_Review please! _


	3. Chapter 3

_Okay, third chapter, disclaimer always stays the same, sadly._

_This POV is JADE. (I love Jade. Metaphorically.)_

God on Her Side

I was only five years old. People thing that children don't remember things from such an early age, but when I live to be 100 I will still remember that day as if it were yesterday.

It seemed like we were sitting for hours in the emergency room, waiting for our turn to see the doctor. It has been my mother and me for as long as I can remember. My father and mother separated when I was a baby. I don't like doctors or hospitals much, so my mom did her best to keep me happy and occupied while we waited. She did a good job of hiding how awful she felt. We sang and played games. She had called my grandparents, and they were on their way, but they were delayed in traffic.

Finally they called my mother's name, and we were taken to a small bed with curtains all around it. The nurse asked my mother to change into a gown and lie down. After she lay down, I quickly jumped onto her stomach and straddled her with a leg on each side. We continued to play our games while we waited for the doctor. Mom had pants on before she was asked to change, but now with the hospital gown, her leg could be seen, but I could not see it because I was looking into her face.

When the doctor finally came, he opened the curtain. I did not see his face; he was not there long enough for me to even turn my head. He said, "Oh my god!" Then he closed the curtain and left. A few moments later, he returned with not one, but five doctors. I will always remember the looks on their faces. It was a look of extreme terror. Then came the next words, "You have a flesh-eating disease, and unless we cut off your leg in the next ten minutes, you will die." Then they closed the curtain and left just as fast as they had appeared.

My mother tried her best to change the subject. She asked me about school, my friends, my cat. I wanted to be brave for Mom, but I couldn't. The tears started coming faster and faster, and I could not control them.

When my grandparents arrived a few minutes later, they thought at first that something had happened to me, because when they opened the curtain I was crying and my mother was trying her best to comfort me. Now that I am older, I wonder how in the world she managed to comfort me, when her whole world was crashing in around her.

The nurse asked my grandparents to take me away from my mother, and the three of us left her and went into a private waiting area. All I could think about was how the doctor said my mother would die in ten minutes. I know every child thinks their mother is special, but mine is especially so. Ever since I had been born, we had spent every moment we could together. My mother has two artificial hips and has a hard time doing things, but that has never stopped her. She just figured out how she can do things in a different way, even if it meant she went to bed in pain. She never wanted to let me down. I know that now-I didn't know that then. She was my rock, my hero, my champion, my best friend, and I was terrified that she was going to die.

The doctors came into the little room where the nurse had put us, to explain the situation to my grandparents and to ask my grandparents to talk to my mother. She had given them permission to take out the part of the leg that was infected, but they were NOT allowed to cut her leg off. The doctor told my grandparents that this would not be allowed to cut off the entire leg at the hip. This all seemed like a dream. Again, in front of me, they said the same thing, "Your daughter is going to die if we do not cut off her leg." My grandparents had a lot of questions, but the doctor said there wasn't enough time to answer them. They were already preparing my mother for surgery.

I thought back to the day before, when my mom had been outside with me. We played hide and seek with our duck, Crackers. Crackers loved to hide, and when we found her, she would quack and quack and quack. It was May, and the weather in California where we lived was beautiful. We were in the process of repainting our entire house. I helped paint each room with a roller. We wanted to make it our home; a place that the two of us created with love. She had been fine all that day. What had happened? I only know that she got a high fever, and it did not go away. She had not shown me her leg, swollen all over with bright red spots and one big bump with a big white circle on the top. I only caught sight of it as the nurse was taking me from her lap.

My grandparents told the doctor they could not help him. My mother was forty-one years old, and they could not make her cut her leg off if she did not want to. I did not understand this as a five year old. They were her parents. Why couldn't they tell her what to do? She always told ME to do what was right. Why couldn't they tell her what was right? I just wanted her to live. I wanted my mom.

Before she was taken into the operating room, my mom instisted she see me. Instead of being worried about herself, she was worried about me. She was angry with the doctors for saying she was going to die while I was right there on her lap. She wanted to see me to tell me something before she went into surgery.

So the nurse came to get me but asked my grandparents to say behind. There I was, holding the hand of a stranger, going down what seemed to be the longest hall in the world. There were no other beds in the hall. Just one. And on it was my mother. She greeted me with a big smile. There were no tears in her eyes or on her face. she asked the nurse to pick me up and put me on her chest. I remember that the nurse said no. But my mother insisted. There I lay, on top of my mother. I could feel her heart beating. I could smell her smell, the one I had always known. It was comforting.

She looked me straight in the eyes and told me these special words. "I have told you before, Jade, that you are my gift from God." She has told me this story since the day I was born. My mother was told she would never have children. She had a condition called endometriosis, and she had many surgeries due to complications from the condition. Her doctor told her she could never have children, but she wanted me so very badly. On the night I was conceived, she said a prayer over and over to God, begging him for the chance to be a mother. When her cycle did not come, she called her doctor and asked for a blood test, but he refused. He said she could not be pregnant and told her it was a "hysterical pregnancy." He explained that he thought it was because she wanted me so badly, she just had the symptoms of being pregnant. Another month went by and my mother took a home pregnancy test. She said it seemed like forever before the results showed in the window of the test stick (she still has the stick, framed on the wall). It said she was pregnant! Again she called her doctor. He still refused to do the blood test. Another month went by and finally the doctor agreed to see her. He did not want to perform a blood test though, because he was sure that she was not pregnant. Instead he did an exam. My mother said the look on his face was priceless. He said, "I don't' know how you did it, but you are indeed pregnant!" My mother promptly told him she had prayed for me.

So there I was, lying on my mother, feeling calm but not really understanding why. She used to say a prayer to me every night before we said our other prayers together. She said she heard it in the movie _Yentel, _and it had stayed with her. She recited the prayer to me again as we lay there together, in that long hallway with the nurse standing next to us. And then she told me, "Jade, I don't want you to worry. I am not going to have my leg cut off, and I am not going to die."

"But Mom," I remember saying, "the doctor said you would die unless he cuts it off."

"He is a doctor, Jade. He his not God. God gave you to me as a special gift. The doctor does not know that. But I know that God is not going to take me away from the special little girl he gave me. He knows you need me here right now. He can wait a little longer for me in heaven."

The nurse was crying, but I wasn't. My mother was right; we had God on our side. So from that moment on, I was fine.

When, I returned to my grandparents, the doctors were still begging them to "talk some sense" into my mother. My mother had told my grandparents, too, that God was not going to let her die. When the doctors left the room, you could tell they were exasperated.

My mom was in surgery for hours, and my grandparents tried their best to keep me busy as we all waited. I know now that they must have been crazy with worry, but they didn't show it to me. We went to the cafeteria and I had some ice cream, and we waited and waited…and waited.

Finally, one of the doctors appeared in the little waiting room. He told us that the surgery was over. They did not cut off her leg, although they had to take a lot out of the front of it.

It has been years now since that day. On the wall in our house is a paper. The paper reads, "We told her we had to cut off her leg or she would die. The patient states that God would not let this happen." My mother and I smile each time she walks past that paper, on her own two legs. We even smile as we look at the scar on the front of her leg that also serves as a reminder. A reminder to us of a gift from God-me-and how important he knew it was for me and my mom to be together a little while longer.

_Hope you liked it. PLEEEEEEEEASE review, it means a lot to me._


End file.
